


Static

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autism, Autistic!John, M/M, Meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: John wanted to move to touch Roger, but his body protested. His arms were on fire and he felt cold. He looked down and gasped.His arms were all bitten up, especially his wrists and to top it all off, he didn’t have a shirt on. He didn’t have his words at the moment, so he could only send Roger a questioning look.“Oh, uh yeah. It was a bad one, Deacy. You did stuff you never do. I tried to stop the biting as best I could. You ripped up your shirt too. How’s your forehead?” he said, his fingers very gently skimming over John’s forehead.





	Static

**Author's Note:**

> *shrug emoji*  
> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: would you maybe do some autistic joger with john having a meltdown?

Honey sunshine shimmered on the field of golden wheat. A whispering breeze rattled the stalks, a chitter erupting from their stems as they rubbed together. He sat down on the yellow grass, the dried pasture crunching with his every move. The sky above him was a soft orange, painting the fluffy clouds the same hue in one stroke.

He felt so warm. He looked down at his skin, it too washed a lovely shade of amber, shimmering under the daytime star’s light. He closed his eyes, letting it soak into his pores. If he stayed out here long enough, he’d turn golden too.

He breathed in as a gust of wind blew past him, carrying with it the scent of lemons and lilies, billowing through his hair and under his clothes. It left him a little chilled, but the sun quickly heated him back up, like a soft blanket melted on to his shoulder.

He heard another burst of air rushing towards him, preparing himself for what other smells it might bring. Sand and ivory? Saffron and cream? He inhaled deeply, doubling over once the wind finally hit him.

**St**

_a_

**_tic_ **

Sta

_Tic_

_s **T** ati **C**_

**_Static_ **

**S _T_ A _T_ I _C_**

Shocks ran through his body, lightening hitting his every nerve. White noise and electrical snow filled his stomach, pangs of static running through his limbs and out the tips of his fingertips. He screamed as his core vibrated aggressively, continuing to balloon with the violent nothingness.

Around him, the world faded to black, the wheat withering to dust, the grass disintegrating into ash. The sun oozed out from the sky, leaving only a void before him, not a shining star or cloud in sight. He looked down at his arms and he too turned into emptiness. He didn’t know where he started or where the static ended.

The static whipped around him like a tornado, engulfing him in the buzzing pain, infiltrating his very essence down to the atom. All he knew was this throbbing tingling pain. It was all he could taste or hear or feel or think about. In that moment, it was all he was.

Background radiation, null and negated. Vibrantly something, but intangible all at once.

His body convulsed as it obliterated, any sense of who he was fading. He shrieked but no sound came out. He felt his cells being pulled away from him, stretched far beyond their capacity. He felt so much agony that he soon began to feel nothing at all. He’d become the static, the uncontrolled chaos. He consumed the entire plane, becoming an entity of naught.

_John._

He ached. He longed for cohesion. He longed to be whole again. He longed for his golden paradise.

_John!_

A spasm of pain ran through him, the mass that was him shivering and quaking.

_John, stop it!_

Hurt and discomfort was all he understood. In this world, it was spoon fed to him. His hands could only form the things which brought him misery.

He moaned, another nerve exploding from the pressure.

_John, please._

Pain and static and hurt and pain and static and fear and confusion and static and pain and static and static.

_John! There we go. There we go. Breathe._

_Breathe._

There was agony, but then there was light. He breathed and there was room to do so.

The light was bright, but it felt warm. Just like his long-gone sun. He inhaled, static leaking from his mouth.

_Breathe for me, John._

**I’m breathing.**

He felt his arms again. Sore from the stretch, but they were there. He hugged himself. There was a body to hug. Contorted and all wrong, but it was his body.

_Fantastic, Deacy. I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?_

More light. Heat and love. He could hear again. And smell. The static was draining from his insides.

He blinked, rubbing the static away from his eyes.

Around him, the world was neither golden nor black.

It was brown.

“John, are you with me?” Roger asked, knelt besides him, smoothing his hair back gently.

John looked all around, not recognizing where they were.

Roger smiled softly, saying, “We’re in some back room. You had a meltdown at the party. This was the only place I could think to take you.”

John nodded, remembering.

The music was so loud you could feel the bass in your bones. Everyone was pressed all on top of each other, sweating and humid, laughing and yelling. The colored spotlights spun all around the room, flashing in your eyes at random.

It was a party he hesitated to go to, but refused to leave Roger alone in. Once the drugs started floating around, things happened and John wasn’t going to let _things_ happen to Roger.

He remembers the knots building up in his stomach, the tension rattling his teeth. Roger tried calming him down, telling him to go to his happy place while he found a way out, but it was too late. One loud cheer from the party goers and he was on the floor. It all went fuzzy from there.

John wanted to move to touch Roger, but his body protested. His arms were on fire and he felt cold. He looked down and gasped.

His arms were all bitten up, especially his wrists and to top it all off, he didn’t have a shirt on. He didn’t have his words at the moment, so he could only send Roger a questioning look.

“Oh, uh yeah. It was a bad one, Deacy. You did stuff you never do. I tried to stop the biting as best I could. You ripped up your shirt too. How’s your forehead?” he said, his fingers very gently skimming over John’s forehead.

John flinched, reaching a hand up to touch the sensitive skin too. It felt bruised. Had he…?

“Oh yeah. You did some head banging. B-But, it’s fine! Don’t worry. It happens. You did a great job coming out of it. You did really good, babe. I’m gonna take you home and patch you up, okay? How does a hot bath sound?” Roger said, taking off his jacket to give to John. John put it on, his body still shaking. It was warm and smelled of cigarettes. He breathed in the fabric deeply. His brain was all frazzled but he knew what comforted him. The smell of Roger’s malboros was a comfort.

Roger stood up, helping John get up onto unsteady feet. With a solid grip, Roger walked a wobbling John out of the party, using the back door and without so much as a goodbye to the other’s there. He loaded John up into his car, buckling in his seat belt and drove the two of them home, apologizing all the while for even going to the party.

John just hummed, letting his eyes fall shut.

♚

John slumped in the bathtub, the warm water easing his sore muscles and bite marks. The lights were off, unable to handle too much stimulation right after the meltdown of the century. He couldn’t see him, but he knew Roger was right next to him, outside the tub, lightly rubbing a soapy rag over his skin.

“Is this okay?” Roger asked, dragging the rag down his neck. John nodded, sighing. It felt good.

“Good, good…You know I love you, John, right?” Roger said as he brought the rag down John’s chest, careful of his stomach where he remembered John had scratched himself.

John nodded again, humming happily. It was a little forced since he felt like death at the moment, but he needed Roger to know he loved him too.

“I won’t ever go to a party like that again. I don’t want to go alone and I never want to put you through that again. I’m really sorry, Deacy. I won-“ Roger was interrupted by a shushing noise, John sloshing around in the water as he repositioned himself closer to his boyfriend, letting his head rest against Roger’s shoulder. His hair was wet, but neither of them seemed to care.

Roger wrapped an arm around John, his nose nuzzling into the younger one’s hair. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll put some cream on your arms and we can go to bed,” he whispered.

John shook his head, pulling himself away from Roger, only to tug at him, a silent request for him to join him in the bathtub. The thought of having to wear itchy pajamas and sleep under a scratchy blanket set his brain on fire. He wanted to stay in the water where his skin didn’t struggle to much with the sensation.

“Oh, John, I really shouldn’t,” Roger said, resisting John’s weak tugs. John whined.

_Fair point._

Roger climbed into the bathtub, fully clothed, sitting down and shivering as his clothes soaked up the water. John clung to him, laying his head on Roger’s chest. He tapped where Roger’s heart was, resting his palm against it.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Roger grumbled but was unable to stop the grin on his face when John made happy noises at the back of his throat.

John pressed his ear to Roger’s heart, the thumping another comfort of his. Every beat was a reminder that within his own body pumped nothing but gold and love.

No static at all.


End file.
